Journal Entry
by Tea
Summary: Another journal entry for the Old Man with the Brat included
1. Default Chapter

Journal Entry By: Tea Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to Highlander or its characters.  
  
Journal 2,014 - Entry 97  
  
~ Sometimes I wonder how far my memory should reach back. Just when did I pull that first breath into a pair of tiny lungs and scream? This is not something I mention lightly.  
  
I hate not being able to say just who I really am, where I came from, what my real name is.  
  
As far back as I can remember I have wandered the world looking for someplace, the place, I can point to and say, I came from here.  
  
Even Death wanted to belong, to be loved, why do you think that he clung to Persephone so tightly?  
  
For a while I did belong. I had a family, brothers, or so I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe, to belong so badly.  
  
But now in this 'modern' world I can finally, truely say that I do. I have friends and a lover who know who, what I once was, who I am now and want me anyway.  
  
It no longer matters if I ever find that piece of land I was born to. Home is said to be where the heart is, where we make it.  
  
My home is in my lover's arms.~  
  
Methos closed his journal and put it on the nightstand next to him. Turning he looked at the warm body curled up next to and around his own.  
  
The low light painted his lover's body in shades of soft yellow and gold, turning them into one of the Greek gods.  
  
His own personal god, he liked the thought of that.  
  
"Come back to sleep Methos." Murmered a voice from the pillow near his hip.  
  
Smiling he turned off the light and slid in next to the warmth of his lover, his love, placing a kiss in their red/blond curls.  
  
"My own personal Brat." 


	2. Chapter 2

Journal Entry(s) By: Tea

Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to Highlander or its characters.

Journal 2,014 - Entry 148

I know that when I write I have the tendency to wax poetic. I am not feeling particularly poetic this evening.

Why you might ask?

Apparently my lover is even younger that I thought and does not play well with others.

Is a little maturity too much to ask for?

Apparently it is.

The bell had already sounded signaling the end of my class, and I was packing up. On my way out the door, one of the other History Professors hailed me.

Vivien is the new professor of Ancient Languages and at 31 appears to be the second youngest member of our department. A lovely little thing with cropped black hair, big brown eyes behind a pair of horn rims and a bit of a Rubenisque body.

Quiet charming as well, as she asked me to join her for lunch.

Someone else in the department had told her that I also had 'studied' Ancient Languages and she wanted to talk to me. Not having anything else to do and no known plans for lunch, I accepted.

Grabbing my arm in delight she ushered me along to her office. She had packed a picnic lunch for herself and said there was plenty to share.

Now I'll admit that I should have been a touch more cautious of the pre-packed picnic lunch, but honestly didn't think anything of it.

We were sitting and having our lunch under one of the trees that surrounds the student quad. So far the conversation had been pleasant, the usual getting to know each other, when I heard my name shouted.

The Brat was practically stomping across the grass and seemed a little out of sorts.

Naturally, as the concerned lover I am, I asked what was wrong.

He had finished at the track early and had come to treat me to lunch and Marie, the department secretary, had told him where I was and with whom.

To make a long story short short Vivien asked if he was a student I was tutoring, and Ritchie took some sort of offense. It might have been the look on her face.

Pulling me up from where I sat next to her and away from where she had her hand on my arm, he then proceeded to inform her of precisely who he was; and what he thought of her; her low cut blouse; the wine with lunch; and the inappropriate touching.

I didn't even know he knew the meaning of the word inappropriate.

Vivien, reeling as if physically struck, snapped back complete with a nasty sneer.

"As if Adam would really sleep with a stupid, male, punk, like you. You are obviously delusional. Don't make me call security."

Ritchie then felt the need to demonstrate which of them was 'delusional'.

There is no way that I can stop myself when he nibbles my lower lip, and the little brat knows it. So of course I proceeded to kiss back.

Mac says that only the fact we are still dressed keeps it from being totally pornographic.

I will admit that the shrieks of outrage and the language that came from her mouth were not what one would expect from a university professor. While we may not know our parents, I doubt they were farm animals of any sort.

Ok, so in retrospect I should have been more aware of her intentions.

But there is nothing more endearing, or as hot, as a jealous lover staking their claim.

Especially Ritchie, The Brat should know what he means to me.

All right, so maybe I will forgive him for his behavior as it could be called justified, and I should also remind him about how much he means to me.

On second thought forgiveness may not be needed if that's chocolate sauce he's. …


	3. Chapter 3

Journal Entry(s) By: Tea

Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to Highlander or its characters. Nor do I own the X:WP or H:TLJ version of the gods that I am referring to.

I can't believe that I have gotten so many hits! I am really grateful. I would love some reviews and if anyone has any ideas for future chapters or would like to be my beta, please let me know.

Thank you

Journal 2,014 - Entry 179

Last night was a different from normal; by accident I left the bedroom curtains open.

It was also a full moon; with it's light shining bright.

Ritchie didn't see it as he was asleep, and I didn't want to wake him up.

The pale silver/gold light filled the room and haloed around our bed. It muted everything, and replaced vibrant colors with shades of grey and white and darkest charcoal.

Golden skin shone as white and clear as porcelain, warm strawberry hair into ink-tinted curls.

He is not classically beautiful.

Is more often than not said to be cute, rather than sexy.

But I know that if any of those Grecian sculptures that gifted the world with the gods made tangible saw him like this, than they too would be struck.

Even with his golden color dulled, he remains a being of warmth.

Not physically (His feet are often blocks of ice at night, which I hate!) but the warmth of his being.

His person.

He is so loving, so bright with curiosity and energy. He burns with a passion that I have not seen very often in this modern world.

We immortals were once called the children of the gods, and with Ritchie, I believe.

I believe that he could have been, could be a child of Hermes. Quick wit and nimble fingers, a ready smile going at the speed of light. He goes so fast on those bikes of his, it is almost as if he is trying to fly. He stole my heart and smiled the whole time.

A child of Strife. Mischief is in his blood, harmless jokes hiding a dark, leashed mayhem. He may smile and laugh, but I have seen those smiles swiftly turn nasty. He has acknowledged his own darkness; maybe that is why he accepts mine.

A child of Apollo. Sun touched skin and bright hair. A small sun laying in my arms, where I have no fear of being burned by his warmth. Far smarter than he appears, with hidden talents and depths.

A child of Ares. He is a warrior, yes, but more than that he is a defender. Defying all who think to tread on and offer harm to what is his. Vengeance is swift. Something that others (Stupid Highland Boy scout) have a problem understanding.

His could be any of theirs.

I sometimes wish he had lived then. He wouldn't have been out of place.

But I am glad he is here now, with me.

His passion may remind me of earlier times, but he has also taught me to live in the here and now. To be in this world, this time, and not remain on the outside anymore than needs be.

Tomorrow is the last night of the full moon. I think I will wake him up, so that we, the children of gods, can make love in the moonlight and make the world burn with envy.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer - My name is found nowhere in conjunction with Highlander. I do not own any of the characters, or concepts used in this fan fiction.

Journal 2,014 Entry 210

Have I ever mentioned that I am not a fan of holidays? I mean some are all right, and I can say there is one or two I do miss. It is these commercialized modern holidays that I have issues with.

The fact that I have nothing to give Ritchie has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Oh, sure I have some little, general things for him; a new racing jacket, some CDs. What I am looking for, what I NEED is that one gift that says something.

That perfect gift.

I know that there is no such thing as perfect. But what I have with my Brat is as close to perfection as I can honestly remember being.

More than 5000 years old and this child feels as if he is my other half.

He completes me.

I can honestly say that I love him.

With Alexia, it was more the idea of love, the possibility that never reached, that could never reach fruition.

She was the first person that I had cared deeply for in close to 2 centuries. She brought me out of my self. If I had never given her the chance, if SHE had never given ME the chance, I doubt I would have looked twice at Duncan's ward.

Even now I cannot say what it is that draws me to him. But I know this, while not the first, Ritchie is the person that I can say I love with every piece of my psyche, of my soul. He is not the first, but I have a feeling, a knowledge almost, that he will be my last and only.

The fact that it took me almost 4000 years to feel this way again, is a bit unsettling. The first time I felt this way, the feeling was the same, that same sense of completion of home, but nowhere near the shear strength of what I feel with my Brat.

When I lost my first beloved, Death roamed the land. I am frightened to think what I might do, if I ever lost Ritchie. Should he ever die, I think whatever remains of my soul may go with him when Thanatos comes to collect.

And here I go again with the morbid thoughts.

Everyone has been telling me that I seem down lately, and Duncan, DUNCAN! The king of dark brooding thoughts, of self-flagellation, has accused me of the same.

The horror, the shame!

And now I sound like a damsel in distress.

I wonder if I should start to wax poetic about My Love Fair;

The greatest expanse of crystal skies,

Are caught in the depths of my lover's eyes.

Willowy his body, slender and fair,

As it hides fierce strength and gentlest care.

Forever his heart I know is mine,

Forever My Brat, like the sun does shine.

Okay, not my best work, but I couldn't figure out how to include 'icy his feet, at night on my legs, the heat does resolve whenever he begs'.

Next thing you know I'm going to start buying wedding catalogues and giggling whenever …

That's it!

Got to go, I need to plan how to steal a ring.

As Methos closed his journal a peaceful thoughtful look came to his face. The moment he had set his coarse, he knew it was the right one.

He may have had 68 wives, and many a male lover, but from before Death he had never thought to take a husband. An even greater sign that Ritchie was the one.

Happy he made his way towards where Ritchie was curled up on the sofa.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer - My name is found nowhere in conjunction with Highlander. I do not own any of the characters, or concepts used in this fan fiction. Please enjoy, and if so please leave reviews, I like to know what you think.

**IMPORTANT- **Author's note- This is not a journal entry, but a train of thought. Methos' mental ramblings after a traumatic event. As it is not being 'written' by Methos, but thought please excuse punctuation and such.

** STARTS HERE**

I… I… I, and he… NO!

I, he… yes…

He said yes, HE HAD SAID YES! He had been happy, so happy. And we…

We were going to be together, forever. FOREVER!

But, but, no… Nnnnnoooooooooo!

NO!

I'm numb.

I'm not sure I feel anything.

I was bleeding, my hands are red.

Oh, it's not my blood. Not my blood. Not my…

I helped Joe carry you home.

It's not my blood, but it came from my heart.

Did I get stabbed? It feels like someone ripped out my heart. It's not there anymore, or if it is I can't feel it.

The apartment is a mess. I think I did that. But why?

It looks like a demon swept…demon…

NO!

If I don't think then it won't be real. It can't be real. IT CAN'T BE!

Please don't be real, please no, no, no, oh gods please no…

Don't leave me alone.

Please, please no, I love you.

Please don't go!

Please!

I…I…I don't hate you.

You got used, we got used, used.

Playthings for amusement, see how long they take to break.

This time, this time not only the Champion broke.

It broke us all. Broken. Used up. Thrown away.

Away, out, gone, gone, oh gods gone.

I just want to sleep, because if I sleep I can dream. Will you let me dream?

Please Morpheus let me DREAM!

Let blind Ikelos guide me to Phantasos' realm, where Mania lies.

I'll keep her company, and she'll let me drift through Elysium to My Sun's side.

My ancient Gods, hear me please, don't leave me alone.

Hades, I beg you, please…

If you can't bring him back let me join him.

Nyx, you… You said there was hope.

But is there? Is there really?

Or were you already a madness sent from Mania.

A cruel nightmare.

Mother Nyx, please do not lie.

Please, all I want is my heart back.

Please don't let it be a lie.

Please My Heart, please.

I love you.

I won't let it take you from me, I won't let it win.

I'll be strong, I promise.

Only for you.

My Dearest Heart, I'll be strong, only for you.

Someday, she said someday, and soon.

I think I believe her, someday. Someday, please…

I love you.

Come back to me.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer - My name is found nowhere in conjunction with Highlander. I do not own any of the characters, or concepts used in this fan fiction.

Journal 2,014 Entry 219

I know that I have not written in a few weeks, but I just couldn't. There has been so much to do, to take care of, that I have not had the time.

Also I didn't want to.

If I wrote about it then there was no denying it, if I wrote about it, then it would be real. I'm not sure I can handle reality just yet. It hurts too much. I miss you too much.

I had to tell Joe.

He couldn't understand my reactions, why I was so upset. He didn't think we even really knew each other, so why was I falling apart?

Then one night he had to take me home.

The look on his face as he stepped into our apartment is hard to describe. There were equal parts dawning understanding, painful horror and grief. He looked around at the shelves with our music, the photos and posters, the sweater shirt you left out on the couch that I haven't been able to put away.

I watched as he turned to one of the shelves above the TV, and picked up of framed photo. It was one of those times I had come to see you at the track. It was of me with an open happy look on my face as you raced laps in the background. It was your favorite.

He held me as I broke down in tears. He has held me a lot in the last few weeks, and I've returned the favor. He loved you too in his own way. I think he saw you as a sort of nephew or something.

Gods I miss you. It is so lonely here at night. I have taken to sleeping on the sofa. The bed is far too big and lonely.

The Highlander has taken off for gods know where. Joe and I handled your, we took care of everything.

It is too quiet here, but I could never think of leaving. I can still feel you here, almost hear you moving around.

Maybe I really am going off the deep end.

I have some vague memories of a woman coming to talk to me, trying to explain something, but it makes no sense. Maybe she wasn't really there, or maybe I really had called upon Mania.

I am not sure

It was the same night, so there are some blanks spots in my memory.

Either way, hallucination or not, she stopped me.

I was prepared to join you, I was ready.

But then I was not, and not because I didn't want to be with you. It, it is almost like a spell or curse depending. I miss you so much, would do anything to be with you again, except that.

I have tried.

I tried that first morning when I woke up and it was real.

I just can't.

I am not sure what to think.

Everyday I wake up thinking that maybe it was a nightmare sent by Prohobetor. Then I am awake and its not.

I miss you my Heart, I miss you so much.


End file.
